Reach Down

You reach down and wrap your full hand around your hard little cock, fingers closing completely until the modest length disappears inside your fist. The first slow stroke makes another clear drop of precum squeeze out between your fingers.

Your sister’s eyes narrow.

She scoffs, sharp and immediate.

“No. Clit-dick doesn’t get a full hand. We have to see it.”

She steps in closer, still fully dressed, and holds her own hand up in front of her crotch like she’s mimicking you. She forms a tiny circle with just her thumb and index finger—barely wide enough for something the size of a lipstick tube—and starts twisting the two fingers back and forth in a quick, mocking little motion. Her thumb rolls toward her body while her index finger tilts the opposite way, exaggerating the demonstration.

“Do it like this,” she says, still performing the pinched, twisting gesture right at the level of her own pussy. “Tiny strokes. Two fingers max. That’s all it deserves. Anything more and you’re just lying to yourself.”

Heat explodes across your face. Your cock throbs hard inside the fist you’re still using, but the way she’s looking at you makes the full-hand grip suddenly feel ridiculous. You hesitate, then slowly open your fingers.

She watches, waiting.

You switch to just your thumb and index finger, forming the same small pinch she showed you. The moment you start the tiny back-and-forth twisting motion she demonstrated, your cock head peeks out between your fingertips—shiny, flushed, and looking even smaller than before. Every short stroke makes the head bob and leak.

Your sister’s smile turns pure wicked delight.

“There we go. That’s the correct way to jerk a clit-dick.” She keeps her own hand up for a second longer, repeating the pinched twist so you can match the rhythm exactly. “Look at it. Two fingers is already generous. Most of the time it wouldn’t even need that much. Just a little rub, like a button.”

Your hips twitch. The restricted, almost delicate strokes feel humiliatingly appropriate. Your cock is fully hard and aching, but the only motion it’s getting is the small, demeaning pinch-and-twist she ordered. Precum drips steadily onto the laundry-room floor between your feet.

She drops her demonstrating hand and simply watches, arms loosely crossed, eyes locked on the tiny stroking motion.

“Faster,” she says casually. “And keep it small. I want to see that little head popping in and out of your fingers while you do it. Don’t you dare go back to a full fist.”

You’re naked in the middle of the laundry room, feet apart, using only two fingers on your own cock exactly the way she showed you, while she stands there fully clothed and supervises. Every short, twisting stroke makes the humiliation sink deeper—and makes your cock throb harder.

What do you do?

Obey completely. Keep the tiny two-finger strokes exactly as she demonstrated, going faster like she ordered, and let her watch every second while you get closer to the edge.

Look up at her while you continue the small, pinched strokes and quietly ask if she wants to take over and do it herself the same way.

Try to speed up even more, still using only the two fingers, and warn her in a shaky voice that you’re getting close—see if she tells you to stop, keep going, or finish right there on the laundry-room floor.